


Heaven Is In The Red Fog (Gee Thanks Thanos!)

by waltermitty



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spiderman- All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Boy Juice is another word for testosterone, Enthusiastic Consent, Everything is consensual, Jewish Peter Parker, M/M, Sexy Times, Short Chapters, Soul Stone Red Fog, The avengers are in this but they're secondary characters, Trans Peter Parker, Trans Wade Wilson, Trans rights, trans characters w diff transition experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltermitty/pseuds/waltermitty
Summary: Soulmates are put together in a red fog after Thanos's snap. Peter finds himself alone, on his 23rd birthday. Then Deadpool and a half-eaten chimichanga show up, and the rest is history.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Avengers, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Spiderman/Deadpool
Comments: 7
Kudos: 109





	1. What the Hell is a Meet Cute?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! If you're familiar with my works then u know I'm a big ole queer and that I'm also trans. If you were not familiar, hi! Welcome! stick around n enjoy the works, especially this one! 
> 
> For this particular story, I believe I started it last July. So it's been In my WIP queue for a long time. In all transparency, there's been a lot going on. I moved, got a new puppy, and started a couple new jobs, n had some dips w my mental health. But writing has always been something I love, and I especially love these characters. So I super hope you enjoy this smutty, fluffy, gay ass story, with lots of unapologetic trans characters. That being said! I always see stories with trans characters being one type of way or the other, aka either being all on hormones w every surgery u can get or nothin at all n really wanting these surgeries. That isn't a reality for all trans folks, as all of us are unique and experience (or don't) dysphoria in our own ways! With that being said: if you are a person who believes that there is a "right" or "wrong" way to be trans- this story is not for you.  
> I am tired of seeing my identity portrayed as this big sad burden in the media, when in fact that isn't true for a lot of trans people.  
> So! with all that out of the way(whew) please please enjoy! I always like to leave a little note before each chapter so people know what to expect 
> 
> Chapter One 
> 
> notes for chapter 1  
> flirty n fun. sexy times r implied but nothing explicit

It’s Peter’s twenty-third birthday and he’s trapped in the soul realm- some sort of infinity stone, the good doctor explains, as if it’s just that simple. So here he is- twenty-three, stuck alone in this stupid astral plane, birthday hat on his head, wishing he was back in Queens with Aunt May and Ned and MJ. That’s the weird part about the stone- he can hear other voices, broken up in pairs- some alone, calling out for their lost loved ones. He can’t see them though- he’s alone in this. 

The birthday hat was a nice surprise, a portal opening and flinging it through to him. 

And then the silence is broken by a “Motherfucker!” and a man in a dark, blood-red hoodie and blue jeans is materializing in front of him, holding a chimichanga. The man turns around, face mottled with scars- deep and running through his cheeks and chin like rivulets. He’s handsome though- Peter thinks- big brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw. He’s broad and muscular, thick thighs and slender hips. He sees Peter then, begins to stalk over to him. The man stops dead in his tracks when he gets closer though, his mouth flops open as he gapes for a few moments. 

“Is this heaven?” the man finally says, voice deep and rough. 

“No. This is hell.” Peter replies, tired of being stuck in this red fog, alone. 

“Well. Looks like hell got its first angel.” He motions to Peter with the chimichanga, and then as it crosses his line of sight he takes a bite. “I’m talking about you by the way,” the man mumbles out around a mouthful. 

“Thanks. So- what’s your name?” 

“Wade. Wade Wilson. What's yours?” 

“Peter Parker” He replies, already thankful for the sound of another person’s voice. 

“Well Peter Parker what in the freshly holy fuck is this and why am I here?” Wade takes another bite of the chimichanga, cheeks bulging as he raises an eyebrow. 

“Fuck if I know- I was in the middle of fighting with a giant purple guy in outer space and then he just disappeared and I thought we won, and then I just faded away.” Peter motions to himself, covered in dirt and blood, his suit sticking to him like a second skin. He'd been wearing his stupid fucking binder for over 8 hours, which yes, he knows is not “good for your health” but he's also stuck on an astral plane so maybe that shit isn't good for your health either. 

“Mm. Thanos? Big guy with a glove? Always talking about balance, disguises his desire for blood with weird philosophical shit?” Wade guesses, sits down next to Peter, spreads his legs out in front of him. 

“That would be the guy.” Peter responds, slightly distracted by the way Wade smells, a hint of woodsmoke and coffee. 

Peter wants to bottle it up and marry it.

He needs to calm down, but doesn't, because he's been alone in this weird fog for what feels like forever and if he wants to smell the hot guy who just plopped in next to him, he can. 

“Yeah, he's a pain in the ass. He's a really big fan of my ex-wife, Shikla. He also loves death, like a lot. She doesn't like him either though. Makes a few of us at least.” Wade picks at his fingernails, seemingly unphased by this development. 

“Ex-wife huh?” Peter ventures, slightly, nay, extremely disappointed. 

He doesn't give up completely though, because there are bisexual and pansexual men. He vehemently prays to god that Wade is at least somewhat into guys, promises to never miss temple again if he is. 

Wade grins, falls backward into the fog, hands behind his head. 

“Yeah. After I got turned into a mutant, Shikla took a special interest in my powers. I can't help that I’m a sucker for attention and pretty eyes.” 

Wade’s eyes are pretty, Peter thinks. 

“Mutant? Me too. Sort of. I got bitten by a radioactive spider once and now I run around in a leotard and call myself Spider-Man.” 

Peter confesses, knows that logically he shouldn't be telling anyone who he actually is but he's lonely and he likes this guy. 

“You're Spider-Man?” Wade's mouth drops open, those brown eyes beginning to well up with tears. 

“Yeah- it's not that big of a deal, Christ man, don't cry.” 

Wade is now on his feet, scrabbling around in his pockets for something. 

“Okay wait hang on-fuck oh motherfucker-the chimichanga comes with to the astral plane but my boy juice doesn't? WHAT THE FUCK” 

Wade screams, frantically patting the pockets of his jeans and sweatshirt, producing a phone, which looks tiny in his large palm. 

“Everything okay?” Peter squeaks, half afraid and half intrigued. 

“Uh no, everything is NOT alright but- hang on yes okay here look.” 

Wade thrusts his phone towards Peter, who spots a very worn out spider-man decal slapped on the back of it. 

“I'm a fan of the way that you swing around the city and don't kill people. You're also much cuter than I had previously assumed, and also older. Which is a comfort given the amount of googling I’ve done- even though the internet is a bitch and a liar.”

Wade says this very matter of factly despite the way his hands are shaking slightly as he takes his phone back, fingertips brushing Peters. 

“Well thanks, I appreciate that you appreciate me.” At this point, Peter is sure he's blushing a bright pink, caught off guard by the compliment. 

“I'm not sure if you've heard of me, but since we’re having a tell-all superhero gossip session, I’m the artist also known as Deadpool.” Wade elaborates, still patting his pockets half-heartedly. 

Peter chokes on his own spit. 

Deadpool, Dead-Motherfucking-Pool, was standing significantly close to him, and smelled like everything good in the entire world and was fucking gorgeous.

Peter decides to play it cool. 

“Oh yeah- I know who you are-” Peter’s voice decides that his already sweaty hands weren't a give away enough, so it cracks something awful, pitched high and squeaky. 

Typically Peter doesn't mind his voice. It was naturally smooth and even and didn't betray him in front of cute men typically, but apparently, it was jumping ship on being at all normal in front of his hero. 

Hero might have been a stretch, seeing as Wade literally murdered people for a living, and for fun, if his Facebook page was anything to go off of. Peter had a strict no killing rule, but if the man next to him wanted to violently dismember Nazis and other scum, Peter’s queer, Jewish, trans ass could get behind that. 

Or in front of it. Preferably on all fours.


	2. I Think Thanos Might Be A Matchmaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more fluff!!! there will be pov switching between chapters. i wasn't kidding when I said they were short (:

Peter Parker, Aka. Spider-Man, was sitting several feet away from Wade, pink in the cheeks, with floppy brown hair, and a sweet smile, and fuck. Fuckity fuck! Wade couldn’t even enjoy this. He was going to try, however, and that was all that mattered. 

“Ya know who I am huh? Well, I am flattered, just tickled pink.” Wade replies, pretends like he isn't about to cry. 

He is in fact, about to cry, because he was at the CVS picking up his hormones when he got sent to this stupid astral plane, with this unfairly cute guy, and he wants to cry. He doesn't know how long they're going to be here, he doesn't have his ointment for his chest, he's only got the stupid delicious chimichanga he just finished and even that doesn't make him feel any better. 

Peter must notice the way his lip is trembling a little bit, or maybe the way he's actually shoving his hoodie down over his face to avoid the tears because he just scoots closer to him and pats him on the knee, rubs little soothing circles into the jean. 

“Hey, It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” His voice is so sweet, soft and easy, and Wade wants to hear it forever. 

He pulls it together eventually because he's pushing 30 and it's all going to be fine. 

Maybe. 

This is around the time when he notices the birthday hat strapped to the other man's head, string digging delightfully into the skin of his cheeks and sharp throat, the cut of his jaw obscene. Wade swallows. The hat is pillowed on top of a flop of curly brown hair that tickles the tips of Peters' ears, curls down around his neck and delicate shoulders. 

He points to the hat, smacks his lips once, and then finally manages to rasp something intelligible.

“Your birthday?” 

Shakespeare is turning in his grave, Wade thinks. 

Eloquent. 

Moving. 

“Yeah. Yesterday I suppose. M’ twenty-three now.” Peter respondings, hands flitting up to adjust the hat ever so slightly. “I forgot I even had this on,” he laughs, a tinkling beautiful laugh, Wade thinks, “I must look so stupid.” 

“You look incredible- what with the whole fading away to dust thing,” Wade says, words coming out in a jumble. 

Peter’s cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink as he opens his mouth and shuts it once, hands flailing around. 

“Thank you.” He finally says. 

Wade can’t help but preen at the way his cheeks flushed, or how his voice got all squeaky when he said thank you. He half wondered what else would make him react that way. 

The voices tell him that he'd probably react as such if Wade kissed him nicely. Wade told them to shut the fuck up and leaned back into the real world, bumped his shoulder against Peters. 

“So, tell me about yourself, Peter Parker!” 

Wade laughs out, turns his eyes towards Peter’s, cocks his head.

“Well-” Peter starts, tugs at the collar of his suit. 

“I just turned 23, as you now know- I have officially missed temple three times this week, I was going to adopt a cat this week, and I've been wearing this stupid fucking binder for over 8 hours and according to the Rules Of Binding that's a big no no.” 

Peter grins, half-hearted, pokes at his chest. 

Wade debates offering to cut it off for him, as he does, in fact, have a knife strapped to his thigh, dangerously close to his dick. 

He opts for the more relatable sentiment 

“I mean I never listened to that rule and I turned out just fine? I also used to run the mile in them too but I don't suggest that option seeing as I passed out.” 

Peter's face twists then- goes from nervous to giddy within moments, tongue poking out from behind his teeth. 

“Yeah see I got very lucky with Mr. Stark- he designed me a special one for when I have to be out avenging- makes it easier to breathe and move around.” 

Wade rolls his eyes and smacks himself in the forehead, falls backward again, flops out like a deranged starfish. 

“Ugh- where is my Mr. Stark when I needed him. Not everyone has a billionaire father figure Peter, way to rub it in.” 

Peter laughs then, that high sweet sound and Wade takes it like a punch to the gut- folds his hands behind his head and grins, rolls onto his side and watches Peter clutch his chest and giggle. 

“Oh my god Wade- shut up- I just got lucky.” 

“You're like the Richie Rich of the Trans™️ community- how do you feel?” 

Peter full-blown cackles then, pats Wade's shoulder with a warm palm, cheeks red and hair mussed. 

“Holy fuck- I have not laughed that hard in I don't know how long. Christ.” 

Wade watches Peter wipe at his eyes, the other man's smaller hands thumbing back to push wisps of hair behind his ears. 

Wade swallows, trying to pull it together in front of Peter. 

He fails. 

Peter, if he does, in fact, notice the pink tint to Wade's cheeks doesn't say a word, just smiles to himself and toes at the ground.


	3. Fuckin' Wormholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are movin right along folks. ill probably make this about 5 chapters, but I am not entirely sure yet  
> nothin explicit yet kiddos! hold on!

“So-” Peter begins, after a considerable pause and voice crack, which he deems normal, visionary even, not at all embarrassing and totally fine. “What really happened with the chimichanga.” 

He raises an eyebrow in Wade's direction, lolls his head to the side and smiles at him softly. 

Wade just rubs his face and groans, flopping a large hand onto Peter's thigh, patting it gently and then as if he's touching fire-yanks it away back into his own lap.

“Fuck wow I’m barely one day off the earth and I already forget my manners- Jesus Pete I’m sorry- do you, are you I mean like is it okay if I touch you? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” 

Wade is a bright shade of red, Peter making a mental note that he’d really like to find out how far that blush goes- watches Wade stumble over his words, and wring his hands in his lap. 

His touch is still burning up Peter's leg from where they’re crossed next to him, the warmth seeping through the nylon of his suit. 

“Yeah Wade- it’s okay if you touch me. Thank you for asking though- n I’m very touchy too- are you comfortable with that?” 

Wade just nods, fiddles with the strings on his sweatshirt and stares way too intently at the fog before responding. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Not gonna lie- it’s been awhile and I’d love some casual intimacy- yaknow? People are so afraid of touching their pals, or their close friends. Like literally kiss your friends. They need that.” 

“Mm. It’s been awhile since I kissed anyone. Kinda forgot what it’s like.” 

At this Wade turns his face toward Peters, cocks his head to the side and smiles. 

“That’s surprising. You’re a catch.” 

Peter feels his cheeks heat at the words, soft and surprising from the other man. 

“Thank you- so are you.”

It feels so youthful, Peter thinks. The soft confessions and little touches- it makes him feel young in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. He likes it- really enjoys the warm fuzzy feeling in his gut that Wade stirs up. 

“You gonna tell me what happened with the Chimichanga and the “Boy Juice” or do I have to guess?” 

Wade grins sideways at Peter, soft and pliant, and scratches the back of his head. 

“I’m on testosterone- and I was picking up my hormones at the CVS when Thanos snapped me here I suppose.”

“Oh! That’s what boy juice means then huh?” 

Peter grins, rolls his eyes and flips the lick of hair that is stubbornly clinging to his forehead back a bit.

“Yeah.” Wade replies, gruff, with a hint of a smile in his voice. 

“Well I mean I figured that’s what you meant when you said that you wore a binder in P.E.” 

Peter says, plucks at his suit again and blinks, watches Wade’s eyes flick towards him. 

“Mmhm. I wasn’t always like this- you know.”

“Like what? Tall, strong and handsome?” Peter quips, does his best to come off as nonchalant. 

“Har dee har. No.” Wade gestures to himself, pokes at his scars accusingly. “I didn’t always look like an overripe avocado face-fucked a topographical map of Utah.”

“I didn’t notice.” 

“It’s part of the mutation.” Wade continues, leaning closer to Peter, outstretches his hand and offers a touch. Peter ever so gingerly places his palm in Wades, rubs his fingers over the honeycomb grooves. 

“Does it hurt?” Peter whispers, gently flipping Wade's palm over and running his fingers over the skin, over and over again, as if by touch alone he could memorize this feeling. 

“It sure did when it happened. I was in this chamber, pumped full of some sort of mutant makin gel. Felt like I was suffocating- couldn't catch my breath, oxygen just high enough so that I didn’t pass out.” 

“Oh.” 

Wade swallows and taps at his temple with his other hand, scratches at a scab there and then continues, keeps talking like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

“So after two days of that-or maybe it was one, I’ll be honest kid- with round the clock torture ya start to forget your own name sometimes- but uh yeah- my cells mutated. They regenerate so quickly to the point that I couldn’t die if wanted too. Arguably, the big downside is that I look like a burn victim Barbie did steroids. Oh n that my brain is pretty much eating itself and I have to keep getting surgery on my chest every 4 or 5 years.” 

Peter is silent for a moment, holds his breath as long as he can and hears it shudder out. 

Wade pulls his palm out of Peter’s grip and shoves it deep in his sweatshirt pockets pushes them into his thighs and opens his mouth as if he’s about to apologize, to say sorry for something that was never his fault to begin with. 

Before Peter can respond, the fog shifts, forms a fat glowing ring in front of his eyes and Dr. Strange’s gloved hand comes ripping through, gropes around for Peter, finally finding purchase on his suit, tearing the shoulder even more as it yanks him face-first into nothingness. 

Peter shouts for Wade as he’s falling- faintly hears Wade call his name, but everything is black. He can hear Dr. Strange telling him Tony- Mr. Stark- needs him, that they have to go.


End file.
